


Tap

by James_X



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Fingering, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Oral Sex, Smut, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:01:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29077521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/James_X/pseuds/James_X
Summary: I mean, who in their right mind doesn’t like Starbucks?It turns out, someone with their own “Personal Starbucks tap.”He who draws the short straw is the designated driver, and Sidney Crosby's unofficial babysitter.  On this night, the short straw goes to Kris Letang, who spends a sober night trying to understand - and look for - Sidney Crosby, with..."interesting" help from his teammates along the way.
Relationships: Craig Adams/Himself, Jordan Staal/Tyler Kennedy, Kris Letang/Brent Johnson, Kris Letang/Himself, Kris Letang/Pascal Dupuis, Mark Letestu/Chris Conner, Sidney Crosby/Jonathan Toews, Sidney Crosby/Kris Letang, Sidney Crosby/Pascal Dupuis, Zbynek Michalek/Ben Lovejoy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Tap

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I own no one and in no way mean to imply anything about the people featured herein. This is all fiction, conjured in the confines of my VERY demented little mind. That means it's fake, so please don't sue me.
> 
>  **Pairing(s):** Follow closely here, folks. Sidney Crosby/Pascal Dupuis, Kris Letang/Himself, Craig Adams/Himself, Jordan Staal/Tyler Kennedy, Mark Letestu/Chris Conner, Zbynek Michalek/Ben Lovejoy, Kris Letang/Brent Johnson. Implied past Sidney Crosby/Kris Letang, Kris Letang/Pascal Dupuis, Sidney Crosby/Jonathan Toews.
> 
>  **Warning:** Graphic sexual activity included herein, including but not limited to: Fingering, oral sex, anal sex, masturbation and watersports. If you don't know what any of that is (most especially that last one), I would suggest you probably not read this, because it's not likely to be your cup of tea. 
> 
> **Notes:** With the encouragement of my best friend and trusty beta of the last *19* years in the hockey fandom, I have decided to start honoring my past works, to celebrate our parts in building the fandom that started with about 20 people in a Yahoo Group in *2002* and is now more gigantic than any of us ever expected. My first hockey fic was posted in March of 2002, and while I don't really know the interest in that ancient of a time period in today's world, some of those may get the dust off as well, if I can handle the cringe re-reading much younger, less seasoned writing.
> 
> I have chosen first to dig this particular work out of my archives, as it's one of the few I feel worth dusting off that contains players still playing in 2021. This was originally posted on **January 7, 2011** , therefore features various members of the Pittsburgh Penguins roster that season. The characters and pairings are numerous and listed above.

I never understood your aversion to Starbucks. Whenever someone made a run, be it before practice, on the road, even pregame, you always turned it down. Your excuse was always the same smirk and “I get enough caffeine.” I never understood _that_ either, because I never saw you with coffee, or Red Bull, or anything other than plain water. There was a lot about you I never understood, no matter how much I paid attention, but that was at the top of the list. I mean, who in their right mind doesn’t like Starbucks?

It turns out, someone with their own “Personal Starbucks tap.”

I’m sure my look of confusion was blatant the first time you said this to me. I should’ve attributed it to drunk talk, through your giggling and slurring and almost falling into my lap as you said it, but I knew this side of you too well; you always told the truth when you were drunk. The statement itself didn’t make sense, because Starbucks couldn’t be on a tap, but that still sent me searching through my entire knowledge of English to make sure I wasn’t missing something in translation. I was almost positive I wasn't by the time you stopped giggling, but I still didn’t understand even when you stood up and told me in a drunken whisper how thirsty you were right then. Somehow I missed the full martini sitting next to you.

“I’ll go get you a drink,” I offered, pushing myself to stand up. I had drawn the short straw that night, which left me sober as the designated driver, and your unofficial babysitter out of respect. For the good of your wholesome and masculine image, we as a team tried to keep you out of sight on these rare nights. You always told the truth when you were drunk, and with that always came loud declarations of how much you liked dick. That wasn’t news to any of us, but to the fans that flocked around us at every bar in South Side it would be gasoline to internet fire. Flower’s failure at babysitting was how the internet first found out about you and Jonathan Toews. I was determined to not fail the same way.

You were not going to make it easy on me, though.

You smirked and shook your head, pushing yourself up from the couch with a loud grunt. I had to grab your shoulders immediately to keep you upright, which earned me a giggle from you and a patronizing pat on the cheek.

“Silly Tanger,” You slurred, and I leaned back from range of your heavily alcohol laced breath. “ _You_ can’t get me the drink I’m thirsty for. Where’s Duper?”

I watched you in confusion, yet again, while you stumbled away from me on an apparent search for Pascal. In my momentary offense at my drink ordering abilities being insulted, I was tempted to let you go unsupervised and let whatever embarrassment come your way. But I knew all too well that that was a bad idea, so I was quick on your trail.

But even that wasn’t quick enough, because by the time I stepped out of the VIP lounge, you were nowhere in sight. For being a stumbling drunk, you were still as quick as you were on the ice. I would have to remember that next time.

Futilely, I scanned the bar to find you, but your fashion choices of white t-shirt and jeans did not make you stand out in a crowd. The only person who did stand out in the crowd was Jordan, and he was dressed the same way, he just towered over the entire bar. He was my only obvious recourse to track you down, before I had to resort to looking at every random person in the place. Besides, you were never too far from his side, even if he had TK in his lap at the time.

“Staalsy,” I shouted over the music as I pushed my way over toward Jordan. 

TK jumped in alarm and slid out of his lap back to his feet, but Jordan’s arm stayed tight around his back. Jordan smirked when he saw me, and I thought TK rolled his eyes at me as he leaned back into him. When I finally got to where they stood, I realized the eye rolling wasn’t because of me; Jordan’s hand was down the back of Tyler’s pants, and the smirk on his face belied what it was there for. They were not as concerned about keeping up the image as the rest of us were.

“Have you seen Sid?” I asked, careful to keep my eyes on their faces and not glance lower, no matter how much I may have wanted to.

Jordan looked at me with an all too familiar look of confusion, which the rest of the team had secretly named the “Dumb Puppy”. “Isn’t he with you?”

When TK rolled his eyes this time, I was certain it was on purpose and not a side effect of Jordan’s hands. That reaction was a match to my smirk as I mockingly looked next to me, and waved my hands through the air.

“I guess he is not invisible, _that_ is good to know,” I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes when TK snickered. “Have you _seen_ him, he wandered out of the VIP.”

Jordan still stared at me with the Dumb Puppy look, like the concept of _seeing_ Sid was the most foreign thing in his life. Fortunately for me, TK was there as well, or my question would probably have gone unanswered, and I would have worried all night about Jordan’s need for an adult.

“He went off toward the back bar,” TK started and gestured toward the back corner of the building. “Some of the guys were back there earlier.”

I nodded and turned away from them, just in time to hear TK groan. I shook my head as I walked away, knowing without seeing what that was all about. If anyone ever got caught and outed every one of us on the entire team that wasn’t woman inclined, it would be those two. They just weren’t at all concerned with public decency or living up to our status as role models. In fact, they were terrible role models, because the rookies on our team took after them in the very worst way.

When I made my way to the back bar, you were still nowhere to be seen, but Letestu and Conner were. Well, mostly Letestu was seen, his back was to me and the rest of the bar, but from the placement of his hands and the rhythmic movement of his hips, I knew just where Conner was. When I got close enough to speak, my suspicions were confirmed when I saw Chris’s shoes gleam in the darkness. I would have to remember to tell him to not wear such formal shoes if he’s going to do something like that. _Rookies_. 

It only took thirty seconds or so of watching Testy’s face, eyes closed, his bottom lip bit between his teeth, before I decided to not even bother asking them if they’d seen you. It was very obvious that neither of them had seen _anything_ recently. A part of me felt like I should tell them to at least take that activity to a bathroom, but a bigger part of me didn’t want to end up feeling a bigger part of _me_ , and I would have if I’d stood there and watched for too long. Unfortunately, I had more pressing matters than the pressing against my zipper.

I turned my back to the rookies and glanced around me, looking for you but also looking for some familiar faces. You were still nowhere in sight, but a familiar face was, and one that wasn’t indisposed. Craiger sat in a far corner from the rookies, nursing a beer and staring out over the dance floor. That was typical of him, the married responsible one; he came out with us more for the camaraderie than the _other stuff_ that the rest of the boys seemed to get into.

Or so I thought.

When I crossed the bar to where Craiger sat, I saw what he was watching on the dance floor, and realized that he wasn’t as decent as I thought from across the room. At the edge of the floor, Zbynek stood behind Lovejoy, both of them swaying their hips offbeat of the music playing. It looked innocent enough to onlookers, but I knew better with our team. All it took was a closer look to see Ben’s pants were pushed low on his hips, uncovering most of his ass, and Zbynek's were undone in the front. Their offbeat movement made obvious what they were doing on its own, but seeing Craiger’s dick in his hand was a final confirmation.

I could feel myself sighing even as I glanced back and forth between the shows next to me. As a team in this city, we got away with too much, and it made me question why I even bothered to try to find you. If our teammates could get away with all of these things in a packed bar, then you should be able to drunk talk about dick. But the unfortunate reality was that standards were always different for you, which was why we babysat for you to begin with. That’s not to mention how mortified and bitchy you’d be the next morning if you realized we left you unsupervised. You yell at me enough on the ice, I wanted to avoid that as much as possible while off. 

But my search had been fruitless and frustrating thus far, in more ways than one. All of our teammates were having fun together, and there I was alone and having very much the complete opposite while searching for you, who were apparently slipperier than Craiger’s dick seemed to be in his hand. He was obviously enjoying the show in front of him, even when I walked up he didn’t look away.

“Tanger,” He grunted and squeezed himself tightly, while I bit my lip hard and silently hoped my hardon wasn’t as blatant as it felt.

“Have…” I started, trailing off when his hand began to move again. It was a mesmerizing sight, one that could easily derail my mission if I watched for too long. I had never seen this side of Craig before, at least not awake, and I, like any sane person wanted to burn it in my memory. But you were still off doing god knows what, I wasn’t even sure you were still in this bar, and that was a scary thought in several ways. So, reluctantly, I forced myself to turn away from Craiger, only to be reminded of what he was watching so intently. My groans could be heard over the music. I hated this team sometimes.

“Have you seen Sid?” I asked quickly, my voice strained, my hands clenched into fists to avoid clenching around any _other_ parts of my body.

I wasn’t sure who that was directed at, but I stared at Zeb and Ben for an answer. Ben’s mouth fell continually open and closed, like he was going to say something, but only whimpers came out, and Zeb’s mouth was buried against his neck. I could not bring myself to look at Craiger again if I ever wanted to find you, so instead I repeated my question to make it easier for the three of them, who clearly had no interest in speaking.

“Someone just **point** in the direction he went, if he went by?” I asked with a frustrated sigh, glancing quickly back and forth between them, before focusing solely on the two. They were less distracting than Craiger stroking himself alone; he would be too easy to help.

To my dismayed delight, Zeb decided to help me in my search and point, by shoving Ben’s pants down the front and curling his hand around an unexpectedly large dick and pointing it toward the back VIP lounge. My groans were audible again over the music, so too were snickers from Zeb and Craiger; Ben could still only whimper. I was used to being picked on with this team, but this was a new low. I would have to plot a fitting revenge for Zeb and Craiger; Ben was an innocent pawn in what was clearly _their_ game, as innocent as one getting fucked in the ass in public could be. I was glad revenge was best served cold; I wanted to think up something good to get them back for this. I would probably need your help for that, tomorrow when you were hungover and bitter, as you usually were after nights like this.

I was glad to leave the three of them behind and make my way toward the lounge. This VIP was less private than the one we’d left, no frosted glass or closeable doors, just a velvet rope around a string of tables with low lighting. A disinterested waiter guarded the entrance as usual; all I had to do was look at him before he pulled the rope open to allow me in. I wasn’t sure if that meant I was recognizable, or if he just didn’t care who went in. I hoped it was the former, but as I glanced around for you, the lack of familiar faces in the few there were in the room told me it was probably the latter. 

Then I heard you giggle.

I looked immediately in the direction of the noise, and noticed you in the far corner of the room, just in time to see you kneel in front of a man I couldn’t see in the darkness. I groaned internally, silently cursing myself for ever letting you wander away, because this was exactly the type of trouble we tried to keep you out of. Anyone looking on could see what was happening, but knowing you as I did, I could only imagine how you got in that position. My bound across the room was swifter than my skating stride; I was ready to snatch you up by the first body part I could grab, until I saw that Duper was the one you were kneeling in front of. I knew well enough not to interrupt the two of you when you were like this.

I also knew well enough to sit back and watch.

I leaned against the wall a few feet away from you, out of your sight, but shielding the two of you from the rest of the room. With my mission complete, I could be as distracted as I wanted, and that was very; I undid my belt as you undid Pascal’s, and waited for the moment your hand wrapped around his dick to do the same to mine. He moaned and cursed in French, mirroring with sound the silent thoughts in my head. I began to stroke myself slowly as his hands threaded into your hair and tugged your head back. I bit my lip between my teeth, waiting for him to slide his dick past your lips, but that didn’t come. Instead he spoke, and I found myself inching closer to hear.

“Beg for it, Sidney,” He murmured and smacked the head of his dick off your lips. I sucked in a breath as you moaned, squeezing myself tightly as you flicked your tongue out against him.

“Please,” You whimpered quietly—and I knew from experience—seductively. “I’m so _thirsty_ ,”

The way you said _thirsty_ was enough to make _my_ knees weak, but Pascal seemed unmoved. He shook his head and tugged yours out of range of his cock. You whimpered deeper this time, and even through the darkness I could see your bottom lip pouting out. This still did not persuade Pascal, quite the opposite; he snickered at you and shook his head, tugging firmly at your hair to pull your head back and bring your eyes to his.

“Are you, _précieux_?” He cooed, stroking his thumb over your lip. 

I felt myself whimpering as you did, and my grip around my cock tightened as you wrapped your lips around his thumb. Your lips had to be criminal they were so hot, but that gesture still did not sway Pascal. He tugged his thumb back and rubbed it along your jaw, and I wondered if he was secretly made of stone.

“Then tell me what you’re thirsty for.”

I’d swear to anything, holy or not, that I saw your eyes gleam in the darkness as your lips curled into what had to be the most devious smirk this side of Jordy. A million thoughts ran through my head, wondering what was going through _yours_ with a look like that. But not one of those million could have prepared me for the thought you actually had. 

“Need Starbucks,” You moaned breathlessly, shifting up into a taller kneel. “My personal Starbucks tap. _Please_.” 

I blinked in surprise, my hand falling from my dick as I moved closer to you, unsure if I’d heard correctly. That was the last thing I ever expected to hear from _you_ , and in a moment like _this_ , there was no part of it that made sense. Yet, that seemed to finally move Pascal. He pulled one hand from your hair and curled it around his dick; I could see your eyes gleaming again as you licked over your bottom lip, and I bit my own to stop from moaning. Pascal snickered softly, stroking his hand down his cock to the base, pulling the skin taught and squeezing there. I could hear your soft growl at that display; foreskin was your fetish, and I knew _this_ from experience as well. My hand returned to my cock, and I stroke myself to mirror Pascal, wishing that I could mirror the “you on your knees” part as well. But right now you were all Pascal’s; he had proved that with the begging. Fortunately for me, being the voyeur was still just as hot.

“Good boy,” Pascal said softly, pulling the remaining hand from your hair. “Open wide,”

He reached down to tap your chin with his hand, smirking when you did as he said. The look on my face was a similar one, laced with anticipation and the build-up of an entire porn filled night. My eyes weren’t sure where to focus, be it on you, waiting so obediently with your mouth wide open, or on Duper and a cock that seemed much larger than I remembered. I could only settle on rapid glances back and forth, until Pascal stepped forward and my eyes latched onto his dick, just in time to see his stream pour into your mouth.

My eyes shot wide, my hand squeezing hard around my dick as I leaned forward to see closer. I never knew you to be into watersports, not even in all your time with Jordan, but your gargled moans told your enjoyment. His flow was a powerful one, strong enough to hear even from my distance, but you handled it with apparent ease, never even closing your mouth. I could hardly believe what I was seeing, but there was no pretending I didn’t enjoy it; my hand pumped slowly along my now throbbing dick, my breath catching in my throat. By the time Pascal’s stream began to slow, I could feel a different kind of release of my own begging to be freed. The build-up of the night was near the boiling point, and now that I knew you were taken care of, _**I**_ could be taken care of. When you leaned forward and wrapped your lips around his dick, I came, jamming my eyes closed and imagining it was my dick in your mouth, even as my cum slid over my fingers.

I stroked myself idly, smearing cum along my shaft, as you moved at a much faster pace on Pascal’s cock. He was moaning now and thrusting forward to meet your rhythm, both of his hands returning to fist in your hair. I could hear you moan around him, then the sound of your belt being unbuckled. I glanced down to see you pull your cock, fully hard and already leaking precum, from your boxers, and I squeezed my own as your hand encircled yours. Pascal growled in what I could only assume was approval, his thrusts into your mouth growing in speed and force. I glanced up at his face to see his eyes flutter closed and his head fall back, his mouth falling open on a moan. I could tell without seeing that he’d hit orgasm, but your loud moan a second later was all the confirmation I needed.

As you slowly pulled back, licking your lips and stilling your hand on your cock, I finally pulled my hand from my own. I watched you as I tucked my dick back into my pants, smirking amused as Pascal brushed a hand through your hair, and then smacked his dick across your lips. You giggled and nipped exaggeratedly at the shaft; Pascal just snickered.

“Be good, précieux,” He scolded, leaning down to kiss you. I couldn’t stop my own smile from that tender display; that was completely unexpected following everything else I’d just seen. “Or next time I’ll come on your face.”

I could hear you giggle in response, but any words that followed were muffled by a sudden breath on my ear and an alarmed jump backward. That didn’t get me very far; as I connected flush with the person attached to that breath.

“I would’ve aimed for his lips, personally,” He murmured against my ear before I could turn around. Once I heard the voice, my alarm subsided with a grin, but I turned nonetheless and slid my arms around his neck. His arms were quick to encircle my waist and he grinned to match mine. “But then, I have a thing for lips.”

He leaned in and kissed me, and I melted into him just as I heard you say “I love Starbucks” behind me. That brought my earlier thoughts rushing back to me, and despite my being pressed against my boyfriend in both body and lips, I found myself giggling. He pulled back to look at me, an eyebrow cocked in confusion. That just increased my laughter, and I shook my head.

“Brent,” I started, threading a hand into his hair and leaning heavily into him. “You missed a hell of a night here.”

He smirked, hugging me tighter to him, and easing his hands into my back pockets. “Let’s go get Starbucks and you can tell me all about it.”

I burst into giggles again, but managed to nod. “Just not from Sid’s tap,”

I preferred _my_ Starbucks in a glass. But you never were one for conventional ways. 

END


End file.
